


The Second to Last and Last Love Song of John Hamish Watson

by killaidanturner



Series: Threnody [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Diary/Journal, Fix-It, Happy Ending, John Watson's Blog, Journal, M/M, Mourning, Post-Reichenbach, Series 03 fix-it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killaidanturner/pseuds/killaidanturner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John spends two years grieving and writing blog entries but never publishing them. Just when he is about to move on Sherlock returns. With all the things he can't say to Mary and Sherlock he keeps writing. </p>
<p><strong>[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. January 28th.]</strong> I walked past a florist today, there were flowers lining the pavement. I smelled them before I saw them. Lavender. Scent is the strongest sense tied to memory. I won’t go into the science of it, the amygdala and hippocampus. It was Baker Street all over again. It was cold winter nights and the steam from the shower, smelling your shampoo from under the door, floating down the hall and into the kitchen. It was the nights when I would be typing up a case and you would be leaning over my shoulder to see what I was writing and I could smell your hair and my heart would stop. It was when you would be at the worktop and you would ask for something ridiculous, like putting my hand in your jacket pocket to get your phone, close enough for me to smell your curls. I’ll have to find a new path to walk to get to my flat. I haven’t started calling it home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of had to do this from John's POV. Any errors are mine.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. June 16th.]** Ella keeps telling me that I should say out loud or write down what I wanted to say to you. I can't.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. June 23rd.]** I broke my laptop. The one that you used to take all the time, reading my emails when you were bored. I went to write an entry, I looked at the keys. The letters S and H were so worn that you could barely tell what letters they were anymore. The oils from your fingers wearing off the paint. I guess you had sent more emails from my computer than I had realized. I sat there just looking at them, it was like they were taunting me. I don't know what happened next but the laptop was across the room, shattered into pieces, keys scattered against the floor. I cried after that, God I feel like there isn't anything left in me. I sat on the floor with the keys strewn around me for the longest time after that. It was worse than when my father died, or when my mother died. It was worse than when I came home from the war and I never thought that anything could feel worse than that. I threw everything away but saved the keys with your initials for last. They’ll be taken to a landfill where they will be just another piece of rubbish and no one will ever know how much those two letters mean.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. August 17th.]** I never went back to Baker Street. I hope that you didn't think that I would stay there without you. Mycroft moved all of my things out for me, well he had his people do it. You would have hated it. I asked him to though, he owes me that at least. He is the only person who would know what was mine and what was yours and what was ours. _Ours._ It feels strange to say that, almost like we were a couple. In a lot of ways though I guess we were, I mean you never really did let me have a steady girlfriend. Then again, I guess I never really wanted one. There were things that we shared, things that didn't matter if it belonged to one or the other. I didn't want any of those things. I didn't want the container of PG Tips, or the tea cups we used with them. I didn't want the chair, my chair, or the throw that hangs on the back of it. I used to cover you with it when you would fall asleep on the couch after running around for days on end. It always smelled of a mixture between me and you. Black tea leaves, my aftershave, chemicals, it always had a lingering scent of chemicals from being so near to the kitchen, your shampoo, the one with lavender. It smelled like home. I don’t want any of those things.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. September 2nd.]** There are still a lot of cases that I never wrote. All of your case notes. I guess they’re still at Baker Street, I don’t know if Mrs.Hudson would have them packed up or if Mycroft would have taken them. I could keep the blog up for a bit if I wanted to, keep the cases going but I can’t bare to look at your handwriting. Fast fluid movements across the page. Your thoughts and findings written down. I remember watching you when you would be writing on papers, backs of newspaper clippings, notes that Molly had from the morgue, autopsy reports, and police reports (Greg was always furious about that). You would be so wrapped up, your hand moving furiously across the pages. How many lives did you save? You’ll never be able to save another.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. September 9th.]** Every sodding person in a long coat is you. The swirl of dark pooling at their feet. You haunt these streets.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. October 13th.]** People wear black bands to remember you. I’ve been seeing it around more frequently. Just a thin piece of black thread tied around their wrist. These are the ones that believe you weren’t a fake. I don’t know how it started, whose idea it was or why it is starting to spread. I was looking at this woman’s wrist today, black thread in contrast against her fair skin and I thought about what you would think about it. Sentiment. I’m sure you would have a long explanation about chemical reactions in the brain and transmitters and God every excuse under the sun for why someone would do something like that. You would be secretly pleased though. She looked at me then, I didn’t realize how lost in my own thoughts that I had been. She recognized me, I could tell by the sadness in her eyes, pooling there in the depths of her pupils. I left Tesco then, I couldn’t continue my shopping. I dropped a container of milk on the floor, the lid broke off and the milk began to pool on the lino. I couldn’t risk her coming over to me and wanting to talk about you. Talk about how you aren’t ( _weren’t,_ I need to stop doing that) a fake. No matter how many black bands there are or how many people are starting to believe that you weren’t a fake it will never be enough. It won’t bring you back.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. October 21st.]** I don't know how I got home last night. I just want to forget you.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. November 6th.]** I took a cab today. It was hard, sitting there in the back with an empty seat next to me. The space was vast, seats more uncomfortable than I remembered. I could feel every movement, every pothole in the street. I remember every single time I was sitting next to you. Sometimes if there was traffic and we were stuck in the back you would do deductions for me. You would pick people out of a crowd in Trafalgar Square and tell me their life story. I swear sometimes you would make stuff up just to have me laugh. You always swore you were right. I hadn’t taken a cab since your funeral and I’ll never take one again.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. November 12th.]** Harriet lectured me today. Can you believe that? My alcoholic sister lectured me about my life style.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. December 4th.]** I thought I saw you today. Impossible. Impossible. (You hate repetition I should say hated. It’s not possible for you to hate if you aren’t alive to do it). I ran down the street, feet pounding against the pavement, lungs burning. He turned around, he didn’t even look anything like you. What am I doing?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. December 5th.]** Do you remember the night after the Vontemp case? The whole case was a circus. Cheating husbands and old family money. You said it was only a three, then we found out the gardener had poisoned the dog which bumped it up to a four. Later that same poison ended up killing the maid which made the case a five. Then the wife had a long lost cousin who was actually her ex-husband from a previous marriage who had plastic surgery to claim he was related to her and that’s when you declared it a seven. Enough to get you out of the flat. You had reduced everyone to tears by the end of the day and I had to spend the day trying not to laugh as you stood in the drawing room of this mansion, with a group of wealthy socialites around you as you spat off deductions and tried to figure out who poisoned the maid. It was literally like a game of Cluedo had come to life. We were walking down the street after, you were only a few inches away from me, our arms occasionally brushing against each other as we walked. We couldn’t stop laughing as we recalled all of your deductions and everyone’s reactions. I told you that they should remake Cluedo with you as the rule maker. You seemed to take my suggestion very seriously, then you turned to me with that wicked look in your eye and we started laughing again. I have never heard you laugh with anyone else. Was I different? Why did you let me in?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. December 6th.]** I slept in Hyde Park last night, or fell asleep there because I was too drunk to make it home. I guess Harriet was right.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. December 6th.]** I’ve poured out everything except for one bottle.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. December 15th.]** I found a new job, it's rather nice actually. Decent commute from my flat. Everyone seems really friendly, the work seems slow though, normal. Did I ever tell you why I kept the SIG? I hated that my career was over, I was never going to be a surgeon again, never going to be able to bring someone back to life. I spent my whole life training to be a surgeon and it was ripped from me before I even had a chance to fully enjoy it. I was good at it too. Then you came along, a hurricane of curls and a long coat, high cheekbones and silver eyes. You were so brilliant. You saved my life, made everything worth living again and then you left me here without you.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. January 1st.]** I’m afraid that I will forget the sound of your laugh, the way that it came slowly at first then grew louder. How your eyes crinkled when you laughed, the way you sometimes put your hand in front of your mouth when you laughed. The way you looked at me.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. January 6th.]** Today is your birthday. _Was_ your birthday. We would have gone to Angelo’s. I would have let you do any crazy experiment you would have wanted. I would have even let you burn that jumper you hate so much just to see your eyes light up.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. January 10th.]** I hate you. It's easier to say that than the other thing I want to say. It sits in the back of my mind all day, trying to push its way through my other thoughts. It has made a home on the tip of my tongue, these other words that I won’t say. It was always on the tip of my tongue though, wasn’t it?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. January 24th.]** Did you know how I felt? How I _feel_?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. January 25th.]** What could I have done to stop you from jumping? I should have told you how I felt. You didn’t give me a chance. Would it have mattered? Would it have helped you change your mind? We could still be at Baker Street. We wouldn’t have to solve cases, we could have done something else. I wouldn’t have minded as long as I was with you.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. January 28th.]** I walked past a florist today, there were flowers lining the pavement. I smelled them before I saw them. Lavender. Scent is the strongest sense tied to memory. I won’t go into the science of it, the amygdala and hippocampus. It was Baker Street all over again. It was cold winter nights and the steam from the shower, smelling your shampoo from under the door, floating down the hall and into the kitchen. It was the nights when I would be typing up a case and you would be leaning over my shoulder to see what I was writing and I could smell your hair and my heart would stop. It was when you would be at the worktop and you would ask for something ridiculous, like putting my hand in your jacket pocket to get your phone, close enough for me to smell your curls. I’ll have to find a new path to walk to get to my flat. I haven’t started calling it home.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. February 9th.]** I miss the stupid cat on the mantel piece, how its hand was always waving. The one from the shop in Chinatown from The Blind Banker case. I hated Sebastian Wilkes, did I ever tell you that? I’m sorry I said colleague, I don’t know if I’ll really ever let that go. You called him Seb. Who was he to you?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. February 16th.]** There’s a woman at work, with large eyes and a brilliant smile. Something stirs in my chest when I see her. Something that I never thought that I would feel again after you. I’m not too sure what it means.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. March 2nd.]** On the table next to my chair in Baker Street there was a book, it was a medical text that you had given me. The book was old beyond belief but it had some of the first recordings of surgery in a battle field. You knew that I would like it and you gave it to me. The front cover was almost falling off, pages yellowed from time. I asked you where you had gotten it and you had told me ‘ _A case._ ’ I never really believed that though, it took you too long to respond. I liked to think that you saw it somewhere and thought of me but I’m sure it wasn’t as simple as that. I never moved it from that spot. If I came home from a rough day at work, or even off of a particularly long case with you, sometimes when you were sulking and I wanted to scream at you, I would run my fingers across the cover. Feeling the hard texture beneath my fingers and remember that you had gotten it for me and it would always make whatever was happening just a little bit better. I left that book at Baker Street but I swear I can still feel the ridges of it on my fingertips.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. March 14th.]** I still have nightmares. I know you heard them when we were at Baker Street. How I would wake up screaming, sweat dripping down the back of my shirt. They’re worse now though, I never thought that they could have gotten worse. Ella calls them night terrors, a side effect of the PTSD. Because PTSD wasn’t bad enough on its own. It always starts out the same, metal and gun shots, hot sand. But they always drift back to you. To that day in June, the wet pavement, opaque sky. The last time I ever heard your voice was on a phone, distorted just a little bit. That’s how it appears in my nightmares. They always end with blood. Your blood all over my hands, your eyes looking at me lifeless. _Goodbye John._ You weren’t a fake, I know you weren’t. Why did you do it? We could have moved, we could have stayed and fought to clear your name. I would have followed you to the end of the bloody Earth. You should have let me follow you into the dark.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. April 19th.]** Selfish bastard.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. May 1st.]** You never carried an umbrella, then again I never did either. We got caught in the rain so many times. There was a time in the spring when I was leaving work and you happened to be waiting for me outside. I asked you if there was a case on and you said no. We looked at each other then, I could see your fingers fidgeting inside of your coat pocket. You looked away from me and explained that you had tried to get a pack of cigarettes from the shop on the corner but the cashier had informed you that I paid him off to not sell to you. I tried so hard not to smile at how irritated you were, your eyebrows coming together as you crunched up your forehead in frustration. You decided since I was the cause of your agony for the day that I was going to take you out to dinner as compensation. I couldn’t really argue it, there was a swelling in my chest when I saw you standing there and I realized I had missed you when I was at work. Did I always miss you? We went out to eat at the Chinese restaurant that you had taken me to after _A Study in Pink._ You were telling me the history of fortune cookies (where did you learn all of this?) when it started to rain outside. We both had a few drinks. We stood outside getting absolutely soaked while we waited for a cab to drive by. I hadn’t taken a coat to work and my teeth were starting to chatter. I felt a heaviness on my shoulders, you had put your coat on me. I could feel the heat rise into my cheeks. You had on your suit jacket, it started clinging to your skin from the rain. I could see every tight outline of your body, how the buttons on your shirt seemed to be screaming for release. Your curls were flat around your face, water dripping from the ends. I didn’t know what to say. You continued to look at me, then your face broke into a smile and you started laughing. I asked you what was so funny. _You look ridiculous in that John._ I started laughing too. We laughed so hard that we almost fell over. I kept your coat on in the cab, letting the scent of London rain cling to it, breathing in the damp wool. We stayed silent, our fingers resting on the seat between us. What it would have taken to just reach out that fraction and touch your hand to mine. Would you have minded?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. June 13th.]** I can’t breathe.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. July 18th.]** I still don’t understand, no matter how hard I try.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. July 26th.]** You’re still a prick.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. July 27th.]** Did you think about what I had said before you jumped? When I called you a machine? I can’t live with myself.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. August 15th.]** It’s dreadfully hot outside. All I can think of is you complaining in Baker Street about the heat and how you abhor everything. God, I even miss your sulking.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. September 30th.]** I walked past Angelo’s today. I thought of every single dinner I had with you there. I don’t have one bad memory of it. It almost seems impossible. I could smell the fresh sauces coming from the rooftop vents. It smelled of oregano and thyme, fresh cut tomatoes. It made me sick to my stomach.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. November 2nd.]** The woman at work keeps asking me out for drinks. I finally said yes. I had been turning her down because I felt so guilty about smiling at her when I walked past. I can’t do it anymore though, I need to at least try and see if there is anything left out there.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. December 13th.]** We’ve been on a few dates. I haven’t talked about you and she hasn’t asked.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. December 25th.]** All I can think of is Baker Street and your violin.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. January 28th.]** Things are going really well. I’ve been enjoying going into work. Probably because Mary is there. That’s her name. I actually think that you would like her, she’s clever, not your clever of course.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. February 12th.]** I don’t think of you when I am with her. You don’t haunt me when we’re out at dinner. It’s like I’m living two separate lives and one of them is with a ghost

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. March 23rd.]** I’m tired of feeling guilty when I am home by myself. I feel like I shouldn’t move one, like I’m not allowed to. I’m holding onto something that we never even had.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. April 19th.]** I found a lot of old cases written in my email. I talked to Ella about them. I’m going to post them on my blog.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. May 12th.]** It didn’t hurt the way that I thought it was going to, posting about your old cases.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. May 23rd.]** I smiled today when I was rereading the twitter case. That’s something, isn’t it?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. June 16th.]** It didn’t hurt as much this year.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. August 17th.]** I’ve been talking to Mary about you. Telling her the wilder cases, the stuff that I never put on my blog. Your foul moods, hazardous experiments, your violin playing at all hours of the night. I was actually happy telling her things about you, remembering you that way made me smile.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. September 27th]** I had another nightmare last night. It has been a while since the last one. When I was alone I had nothing to wake me up from the nightmares, I had to let them run their course. Until I met you. It took me a while to catch on to what you were doing but when I eventually did I never said anything about it. The nights that you would hear me thrashing about in my bed you would grab your violin. The noise would drift up the stairs and pull me out of the desert heat and gunshots. I would lay in bed trying to catch my breath as I listened to you play, heart beating against my chest as it fought against the sound of the notes from your violin. I know that’s why you did it because sometimes I swear the noise was coming from directly at the bottom of the stairs. I had nothing to pull me out last night.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. October 5th.]** Greg stopped by with a box of your things. They are now the only things of yours that are in my new flat. He told me that the police are trying to clear your name. Two years too late. I hope that they do though. There was a DVD in the box, a video you had made for my birthday one year. I had a drink from the one bottle I have left in the flat, the one I keep on the top shelf in a cabinet. I watched the DVD. I remember the essay you wrote me. I probably should have been offended but it was my favourite gift that year. When I saw you on the video, God, I forgot how beautiful you were. It hurt to look at you. I asked you again, to stop being dead. I wasn’t looking at the telly, I heard you say _okay_. My heart stopped in my chest in that moment, I could have sworn you were in the room with me. The doorbell rang then. I still miss you, I don’t know if it will ever stop.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. November 1st.]** I went with Mary to your grave today. It’s the first time that I have taken any one else with me. She had picked up flowers to take there. Do you want to know what they were? Lavender. I couldn’t tell her how they reminded me of you.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry. November 2nd.]** I went to Baker Street today. It still smelled like you. Can you believe that? There was a layer of musk trying to cover your scent from the collection of dust now laying over your things. Mrs.Hudson never changed the locks. I could hear your voice in the hallway, all the times we were there together, laughing against the wall. I regret not talking to her these past two years, I’ve missed her too. Everything is exactly the same in Baker Street. Has Mycroft been paying the rent? Did you ask him to never let anyone else live there? Did you want to make sure Mrs.Hudson always had income? I can see you doing it for both of those reasons. After all this time she is still convinced that we were together. _Live and let live._ Next time I'm not going to argue with her about it. It still feels like home. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Everything is slipping out of my hands and I don’t know how to make it stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole thing turned out longer than intended but considering the roller coaster that John went through I guess it needed to be this way. Any errors are mine( I apologize in advance)

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I was looking at the menu, looking for a wine while Mary was in the bathroom. Then the waiter came to the table, I couldn't stand to look at him, this waiter. He spoke with an over the top French accent but that wasn't what bothered me. No, it was when he leaned over my shoulder that I smelt it. I've spent two years hiding my reactions, two years pushing down every thought of you. Then there it was, lavender. My heart stopped in my chest. It couldn't be you though, impossible. I wanted to get the waiter out of my face, away from the table because if I smelled your shampoo any longer I wasn't going to be able to propose to her. Then the waiter came back and it was you. God it was you. I wasn't able to do the proposal after all.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I swear I will kill you myself Sherlock Holmes.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** How long have you been home? How many days before you decided to come and ruin my life? Was I not important enough for you to come see me sooner? What have you been doing this whole time?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I asked for this, every single day that you were gone I asked for this. Then you show up bloody larger than life dressed as a waiter, asking me if I'm going to shave my moustache. Sod off you bloody fucking prick.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Do you know how many times I begged every deity in the universe to bring you back?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry** ] It was supposed to be my proposal, I was supposed to be moving on. You would pick that moment to show up. You arrogant arsehole.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I was beyond pissed, that's why I hit you. I thought...you let me grieve for two years. I hadn't felt that kind of anger in a long time, not since the war. It's a wolf curled up inside of me and when I saw you every hair on my body stood up. God you're such a prick, a face from the past? Really Sherlock? I think back to your innuendos and cheesy lines before I knew it was you there in that restaurant and of course you would do it that way. Of course you would think that it was ok. You can’t just do that to people Sherlock. You could have come and talked to me, at my flat, like an ordinary person would do. I still might have tried to kill you though.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I wasn’t actually trying to kill you, when my fingers were against your throat. I needed to feel your pulse, your skin underneath mine. I needed to know that it was you.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I don’t regret making your nose bleed. I’ll do it every single day of my life if I have to, at least then I know you’re real.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** You haven’t called or texted. I look at my phone a dozen times a day to see if your name will pop up on there. Do you still have the same number? I never deleted your contact.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Why haven’t you texted? Are you already conducting experiments in Baker Street, driving Mrs.Hudson up the walls? Are you already back to solving cases with the Yard?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I slammed my mobile against the kitchen table today, the screen cracked. I was sick of waiting for you, sick of looking at the empty screen every few minutes. It’s like you’re a sickness crawling inside of me. Nothing medicine, science or a miracle can cure. I have to get a new mobile, I told Mary that I accidently dropped it while carrying the shopping. She doesn’t need to know.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Mary keeps telling me to talk to you. She has no idea. No clue how you really are. She has never seen your dark moods, never seen the way you treat people. She doesn’t know that you can be manipulative and the most selfish prick I have ever met. She doesn’t know how ill-mannered and petulant you are. She doesn’t know how I would storm out of Baker Street when I just couldn’t be around you anymore. She doesn’t know that I loved you.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Really, you took Molly on a case? Molly?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Greg called me today. He said that you seemed off when you were solving a case with him. That you kept talking to yourself and moving your hands wildly by your head like you were trying to push thoughts away. He's worried about you. He's always cared about you, did you know that? He says you called Molly by my name. What is that supposed to mean?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** What happened while you were away? I want to know but I can't bring myself to ask.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I thought I saw you at work today. It’s two years ago all over again. I imagined you in this old man with an absurdly thick accent carrying around porn DVDs to try to trade for medical services. It seems like something you would do to irritate me. I tried to pull of his beard. Do you see what you do to me?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I can still feel heat against my skin. I don't know if it's remnants from the fire or from your hands pulling me out but my body is burning.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Before I was taken by whoever it was, I had been thinking for days now to come see you. I didn't want you to think that you were easily forgiven though. Even though my heart pounded in my chest and my guts felt like they were twisting every time I thought of you. I stood outside on the pavement of Baker Street, looking up at the window, thinking a million thoughts of you. Of course I would come see you.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I went to Baker Street to ask you what you knew about who had drugged me. You said you didn't know. Sitting there in my chair, (habit, I guess it really isn't mine anymore) it felt like home. I've been trying so hard to build this separate life, one with no traces of you but I seem to keep falling back to you.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Really though Sherlock, your parents knew? Your parents, and Mycroft and Molly Hooper and half of London’s homeless population. How could you trust all of them and not me?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I am trying to look past it, to see the bigger picture but it's not coming to me yet.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** We were there in the underground, looking for a bomb. I thought that I was going to die. Really thought that it was the end. You told me to leave. Did you think that I could leave you down there by yourself? I had just gotten you back, I wasn’t going to lose you again so quickly. I know this is going to sound insane but I always thought that if it were to happen then it would be with you, and I was ok with that. You looked at me though, tears in your eyes. You said I would will have a future. You paused after that, your eyes looking away from me, I could see the words lumping together in your throat. _With Mary_. I could see it in your eyes, how you knew I would go on without you, how I already had. I had forgotten about her when we were down there, she wasn’t my last thought before dying, you were. Of course you’re a prick and had turned the bomb off already. God, Sherlock what did you want me to do? I didn’t know you were bloody alive! I would have waited, I would have waited every single day of my life if I knew it meant that you were coming home. I mean it when I said that one word is all that I would have needed.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** We did a press release today, you wore that hat. You slip so easily into the role, the one where you're a mad genius who deduces people. They never see the softer things that you do. The things you did for me. They were always small things but they meant more to me than anything. How you would make tea when you knew that I was pissed at you. When you would clean the kitchen before I would scream at you to do it. When I would come home from a rough day at the clinic and you had deduced from my text messages that I was exhausted, you would have my favorite food waiting for me from the Indian place on Blandford. They’ll never know those things. I'll never be able to explain how it felt to stand there next to you, telling reporters which questions you would answer and which ones you wouldn't. Standing side by side we looked at each other, you smiled at me and I smiled back. I don't know if I ever have felt so happy.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** You said that you heard me. Were you there at your grave?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** You texted me about a case. My heart had never beat so fast before as it did when I saw your text.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I miss you. I miss you every single day. I wish I could go on more cases with you but there’s Mary and the wedding. I want you to be my best man. I want you there by my side. I don’t know how to ask you.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I tried asking you today while we met up for coffee. The café was unfamiliar and everything felt off.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I finally asked you, it took the comfort of Baker Street to be able to do it. You stood there, silent, for over ten minutes. I didn’t know what to do. I thought that you had retreated into your Mind Palace. Of course you’re my best friend, how could you not know? Can you not see it in the way that I look at you, like you’re the most important person in my life? You are the most important person in my life.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Do you remember, before you left, how we would sometimes have slow nights? I don’t know if you ever kept them or if they were so dull that you deleted them. We would be sitting there in Baker Street, spread out across the couch, sometimes your feet would be touching me, or an arm. I never minded. We would watch a movie (that you would ruin) and eat takeaway. Those were some of my favorite nights. Tonight I was watching a movie with Mary on the couch. It is nothing like sitting next to you. As she sat there next to me, her feet curled up underneath my legs, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Mary absolutely adores you, she gushes about you all the time. She said you went with her to pick out serviette colours. She said you told the owner of the store that his clerk was stealing money from the till at night and the owner was so thrilled to finally know what had been happening to the money that he gave her a deal on the serviettes. She’s convinced you were showing off but she’s obviously very pleased about it. You don’t know how happy I am that she cares about you so much.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** The wedding is a few weeks away and there’s a wrench in my stomach.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Everything is slipping out of my hands and I don’t know how to make it stop.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Mary says that I need to take you out for some cases, she thinks that you think that I won’t have time for you anymore once I’m married. Do you really think that? When did you start caring so much? I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I just mean, I never would have thought that you would have minded if I sodded off the face of the earth and now when I see you, sometimes I swear I can see something else behind your eyes. A flicker of sadness before it’s pushed away.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I don't know if typing up my thoughts anymore is helping or making everything seem more real but I have no other way to get the thoughts out of my head. If I don't then they sit there and they fester and turn me into something that I don't like, a shell of myself. 

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I mentioned a case to you today and you seemed to have forgotten that you are a Consulting Detective ( _Only one in the world_. I can hear your voice in my head). Three years ago I wouldn’t have been able to get you to go to the bloody store on the corner for a few small items and now here are sitting on the ground folding bloody serviettes into the Sydney Opera house and making seating arrangements for all the guests just to make Mary happy. These all feels so wrong but I don’t know how to make it stop.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** You took me out to pubs, and a few clubs where we had solved murders by. It was probably one of the best gifts you could have given me. Things that I thought had forgotten had resurfaced. Memories of you before you had left, back when it was just you and me. What I wouldn’t give to have that back.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I almost kissed you, I wanted to so bad. To finally have your cupids bow’s pressed against mine. I guess it’s better that it didn’t happen though.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Your words keep repeating in my head, _it is the highest compliment of which I am capable._ What is that supposed to mean?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I want to say that I was happy that you agreed to be my best man, in a way I was. I wouldn’t have wanted it to be anyone but you. But God to sit here and say that it didn’t hurt at the same time is a lie.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]**  You said that you solve murders and I am the one that saves lives. Do you not realise how many lives you save? I never said thank you for saving James’s life.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Mary and I haven’t really talked about the baby. It lingers there between us unspoken, stretching and taking up all the space in the room. I should be happier about it but something just doesn’t seem right. Mary doesn’t talk about it either, she walks around with a shadow lurking over her.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I keep having nightmares. They start out the same, always. Its hot desert sand and blood, but they end with you. I hadn’t had them in a while, not since you came back at least. I wake up sweating, heart pounding in my chest. It’s always the first night that I met you, when you asked me to come with you in your roundabout way. _Seen a lot of injuries then, violent deaths? A bit of trouble too, I bet. Want to see some more?_ Oh God yes. Where are you? I want to text you, it’s been three weeks since the wedding.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** It’s been a month, and the nightmares haven’t gotten any better. We haven’t talked since the wedding. What are you doing? Why won’t you text? There’s a feeling in the pit of my stomach, it makes my whole body ache with worry. The only time I talked to you was for you to get off my blog. And for your information it was definitely not a sex holiday as you seem so keen to call it that.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** A drug den? A BLOODY FUCKING DRUG DEN? SHERLOCK HOLMES I SWEAR TO GOD WE DON’T TALK FOR ONE MONTH AND THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS? Are you punishing me? Is that what this is? Oh don’t even try this “ _it’s for a case_ ” bullocks with me. And yes of course I called your brother, I almost called Lestrade to tell him to not let you on any fucking cases until you decide to stop being such an idiot. Be lucky it was Molly that slapped you and not me because I was tempted to break your arm, or strangle you to death. How could you do this to me? Do you not think about me anymore? Does our friendship mean so little? This is the Sherlock I remember, the one that made me storm out of Baker Street a thousand times because he was so wrapped up in himself and his cases that he had no consideration for anyone else breathing or not. And I thought that you had changed.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Janine? Are you serious?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Sherlock, Janine, really though? Janine, Mary’s friend Janine, the one from the wedding? I mean yeah I know, of course I saw it with my own eyes but I just can’t believe it. What happened to not really my area? Jesus Christ.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the things I wrote about you not changing. You just know how to get under my skin. I saw you with Janine and I didn’t know what to do. Then I thought about what it must have been like for you to watch me and Mary for the past few months and I thought to myself I don’t know what I would have done if it would have been you. If our roles would have been reversed. In a way I understand why you say you say it was for a case and I understand why you did it. If it would have been the other way around, if it would have been me, well I probably would be thankful to still have my SIG.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Whatever you have been feeling, I’ve been feeling it too. Every single day that I have known you. There is so much I wish I could change, so much I wish I could take back. Now I’m married and there’s a baby on the way and you have Janine and I feel like I’m trapped. The world is grey and I can’t breathe, there is a pressure on my throat and all the air has been sucked out of the room. I don’t know how to make this right and I don’t know how I can going on living the life I am at the same time. How did we get into this mess?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** How dare you. How fucking dare you say to me _you choose her_. Who gave you the fucking right? Hm? You left me, for two bloody years, you left me. I missed you every single day that you were fucking gone. I would have chosen you, God I should have. I should have just left her when you came back. I know that now, I kind of knew it the whole time. It was always sitting there in the back of my mind every moment that I was with her. We wouldn’t be in this great fucking mess if I would have just left her. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that this happened. She…shot you (that makes it seem even more real seeing it typed up like this). I don’t care what you say, what game you are playing at right now, I don’t believe that she saved your life. I studied at Bart’s, I’ve been in in the A &E, I know the response times for an ambulance. I am trying to understand that you may not want to tell me everything right now because honestly I don’t want to know all of it at the moment.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** You didn’t ask me to stay with you at Baker Street, but how could I leave you like this?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Did you always know that there was something different about her?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I want to apologise for my dark moods, how I storm around the flat sometimes. Other times I don’t come out of my room for hours. I see the way you are around me. You’re so careful. So silent in your movements sometimes I forget you’re in the flat too.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** You’re starting to worry me. When was the last time you went on a case? The last time you read an email? The last time you did an experiment?

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I don’t want you to be afraid of me, afraid of what I’ve become. I fear I’m only a shadow of myself.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I hate her so much. It rips through me when I try so hard not to think about it. Coursing through my veins and finding its way straight into my heart. I wish that I could tell you about it, but I can’t even seem to put it down in here how betrayed I feel. I never hated you as much as I hate her. I never really hated you though, I was just thoroughly pissed at you. I need you to understand that.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** What did you think I would say to you with all that blood pooled onto the living room floor? Jesus fucking Christ.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** You looked so afraid when I told you that it reminded me of Bart’s. You genuinely didn’t think about it. I’m sorry too.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** We’ve been working nonstop the past two weeks. Some nights we both fall asleep in the living room, me on the couch or you in your chair, sometimes it’s reversed. Even though I tell you it’s not good for the wound to heal with you sleeping in these places. One night I fell asleep on the floor as your hand dangled off of the side of the couch, I couldn’t make myself move from the spot. I just needed to be near you.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** We went to Angelo’s. We hadn't been there since well, since before you left. I forgot how much I missed it. I thought that it would be different, strained and tense, but it wasn't. It was like every single time we've ever been. Warm and inviting. It was packed, we could barely hear each other. I moved closer to you, our thighs pressing together. Our heads inclined towards each other. We talked about crime scenes and experiments, football and strange cases I saw at the clinic. Your hands would gesture wildly when you would speak, your enthusiasm evident. Did you see the way I was looking at you? Could you feel my heart beating from how close we were? I told you I was happy, the happiest I had been in a long time. Your mouth slightly parted, you looked at me with wide eyes. You smiled eventually and said you were happy too. You make me the happiest person on earth. After you left I never thought I would feel this again. It was different with Mary, almost complacent even. Then you came back and I tried to fight what I was feeling because I just couldn't stop thinking how not fair all of this was. But then....then you got shot and I learned that Mary isn't Mary at all. It took time but eventually I decided sod it, why shouldn't I be allowed to be happy? I mean you're right here in front of me again and it's all I've ever wanted.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I changed my address back to Baker Street, I’ve started getting mail here again. Nothing else will ever feel like home the way this place does.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** It’s been two months now. You’re almost fully healed. We haven’t talked about it, the scars on your back. I saw them every time that I helped changed your bandage. I see them behind my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. As much as they haunt you, they’re haunting me too.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I read the USB.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I feel sick to my stomach at the fact that I used to love her. She’s not even a fragment of the person I married, she’s always been a lie. Everything about her is made up. It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought that it was going to. I think it’s because I know that I still have you.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I told you I read the USB and asked you what the plan was. Of course you have a plan, you always do. I don’t like it, not all of it at least. I don’t like the part where I’ll have to go back to her for a bit. I don’t even know how I am going to pretend to forgive her.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I said it after our first kiss. It tumbled out past my lips before I could stop it. _I love you._ I love you. I love you. I love you. I should have been saying this for years.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** Shooting Magnussen was not a part of the plan. I thought Mycroft was going to kill you himself. I couldn’t understand why. I didn’t ask but you could see the question there sitting on the tip of my tongue. You told me though, about the day he came to see you in the hospital. I could feel the bile rising in my throat. I wish you would have told me before Appledore. I would have shot him myself.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I will protect you every single day of my life until my last breath.

**[Saved. Unpublished Blog Entry]** I skipped out of work early at the clinic, said that I had to go to Harry’s (Mary will never question that). Mary is a few weeks away from being on bed rest. I wonder how long she plans to keep the sham up. I ran up the stairs two at a time, you were waiting for me. I pulled you by the collar of your shirt, pulled you down to me, pressing your lips against mine. It had only been a few days since I last saw you but we have a lifetime to make up for the years we have missed. I had been looking at your text all day. _I love you too_. Let me show you how much I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> A threnody is a song, hymn or poem of mourning composed or performed as a memorial to a dead person.


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